


Magic In The Air

by Sir_Bedevere



Series: Wherever You Find Love [2]
Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Family Fluff, Fireworks, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28437864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: There was a beat, then a pair of hesitant arms wrapped around him and Pat had to fight the sudden urge to burst into tears. A bit of melancholy was one thing, but he wasn’t going to cry all over Cap just because he’d managed to upset himself.New Year's Eve always leaves Pat feeling a bit sorry for himself. Luckily, this year, he's got the Captain to distract him.
Relationships: Pat Butcher/The Captain (Ghosts TV 2019)
Series: Wherever You Find Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083026
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	Magic In The Air

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you accidentally set yourself up for a sequel and you just have to do it?
> 
> Anyway, you don't need to know much about the first fic apart from the fact that it's set in my own world where 2020 hit Button House just the same as it did in real life.

It had snowed in the night, a thick blanket that actually laid. Pat was so used to southern snow that he’d practically forgotten what a good decent fall looked like. 

He stood in his bedroom window, forehead pressed against the glass, wishing he could breathe on it and draw patterns like he used to do with Daley. It drove Carol mad, with the greasy fingerprints that they left behind, but Daley had always loved it. 

“Draw a car, Daddy! Draw a dog!”

He never seemed to mind that his father’s artistic abilities were lacking – he clapped his hands and was happy all the same. Pat taught him to write his name on a window in winter, wobbly letter by wobbly letter. He wondered if Daley remembered it. He wondered if he did it with his own son, or if little Pat liked to play in the snow. Pat was missing every first of his grandson’s life, when by rights he should have been there. Knowing about the bairn was usually a thing that he knew to appreciate. But on a day like today, when the year was about to turn and he was still stuck at Button House, he wondered if the knowing was more of a curse. 

Just as he was feeling sorry for himself, there was a commotion down below, and Robin barrelled out onto the driveway. He was clutching Humphrey’s head by the hair, and Kitty was close behind them. 

“Oh, how lovely!” Kitty cried, doing a turn to look at the snowy scene. “So beautiful!”

Then another voice, and Pat smiled. 

“Now you lot, out of the way. Alison will start the stopwatch shortly.”

The Captain was out of sight, but Pat didn’t need to see him to know that he was standing poised on the doorstep, stick in hand, gazing up at Alison’s window. Reliable like clockwork, the most reliable and somehow lately the least and most surprising person Pat knew. A steady hand on the wheel, and wasn’t that a smashing thing. Pat certainly wasn’t feeling too steady himself.

“Oh, let’s play a game! Let’s pretend Humphrey is a snowball,” Kitty said, grasping Robin’s furs. “I’ll run and you try to catch me.”

They took off around the corner, away from Cap’s usual running route, and Pat could hear delighted screams and a low voice that was probably Humphrey. He waited till Alison threw open her window and saw Cap off, then hurried downstairs. Mike had taken down the mistletoe by the front door, but that didn’t mean Pat couldn’t be there waiting anyway. It was becoming a habit. 

He leaned on the clock as Alison followed him to the entrance hall, yawning her head off. As Cap threw himself through the door, she held up the stopwatch so that he could see it. 

“Well done,” she said. “Remind me I need to talk to you later, Captain.”

He made a noise in his throat, but his eyes were already on Pat, a small smile on his face. As though he was surprised still that Pat should be there waiting for him. Alison, bless her, started talking about coffee and disappeared sharpish. 

“Good morning,” the Captain said, his hands pressed to the small of his back as he carefully turned left, then right. “How did you sleep?”

“Well enough,” Pat said, then just because he was feeling melancholy – and because he _could_ – he reached out a cautious hand and hooked his fingers around the Captain’s Sam Browne belt. 

“Come here, please,” he murmured. 

He wasn’t offended that Cap checked they were alone first. This was all brand new and more than a little bit scary. 

Satisfied, the Captain allowed himself to be pulled forwards, and bent his head willingly to receive Pat’s kiss, his own hand curling at Pat’s waist – a spot of pressure that was almost the same as the warm touch of a heated hand. Pat could fool himself well enough, after all, that Cap’s lips were warm when they were pressed together, so why not his hands too. They hadn’t gone much beyond this chaste, sweet embrace and for now, it was more than enough. Overwhelming, almost, after so many years of drought. And that was just for Pat. He didn’t want the Captain to drown in the flood.

“Are you alright, Patrick?” the Captain asked as he tried to pull away and found that Pat was still gripping his belt tightly. 

“Just give me a minute,” Pat mumbled, pressing his face to Cap’s chest. “Please.”

There was a beat, then a pair of hesitant arms wrapped around him and Pat had to fight the sudden urge to burst into tears. A bit of melancholy was one thing, but he wasn’t going to cry all over Cap just because he’d managed to upset himself. 

Cap patted his back, hands clumsy and so gentle, and made what he probably thought were soothing noises. It was enough though; the fact that he was trying was more than enough, and Pat took one more deep breath before he gently wriggled free. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, whipping his glasses off to wipe at his eyes. “Ignore me, being silly.”

As the glasses went back on and he glanced up, embarrassed, he could have cried anyway at the look of concern on the Captain’s face, and the way that his thumb came up to brush against Pat’s cheek. By Pat’s calculation, it was the first time that Cap had made a move off his own back. 

“I’m alright, Cap. Come on. I want to make sure the others aren’t taking advantage of Humphrey’s good nature.”

Cap made a sound that suggested he didn’t completely trust Pat’s insistence that everything was okay, but didn’t argue. He tucked his stick under his arm and fell into step half a pace behind as Pat went out through the front door. This thing between them was so brand new – especially new for the Captain – that he was taking Pat’s lead in pretty much all of it. Judging by that calloused thumb on his cheek though, that might not last very long; the idea of Cap being brave enough to touch first, to kiss first, was a bit thrilling, if Pat was honest. Like being young and in love all over again. Pat had missed so many firsts in Daley’s life, and he was missing so many now in his grandson’s, but he could console himself that he was here helping the Captain to experience a lot of his own. The fact he’d chosen Pat to do that with was the very best thing that had happened since he died. 

Humphrey insisted that he wasn’t bothered about being used as a pretend snowball, especially because Kitty had such bad aim that he ended up mostly landing on the snow. And Robin, despite all his bluster, would never throw anything at Kitty hard enough to hurt her. Satisfied that everyone was happy, and feeling a bit more balanced, Pat turned to find the Captain watching him fondly. 

“What?”

“Just – er – admiring your leadership skills. Keeping the troops in order and such. Very impressive.”

“You think?” Pat asked, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from fiddling with his neckerchief. “I always reckoned you thought I was a bit soft.”

“Forgiving, perhaps, but not soft,” Cap said thoughtfully, following along as Pat headed towards the kitchen. “I could probably learn a lot from watching you deal with this lot.”

“Give over,” Pat smiled, reaching out to clasp Cap’s elbow, as they drifted through the wall and into the corridor outside the kitchen. 

At the table, Alison was halfway through a bowl of cornflakes as she gazed at her telephone. She was also, unusually, alone. Kitty was outside, but Thomas was normally hanging around breakfast time. Then again – New Year’s Eve. Chances were Thomas would be busy lamenting, as he tended to do around days that marked the passing of time. It being almost half past nine, he was probably already in the lake. 

Cap cleared his throat and Alison looked up, spoon of cereal halfway to her mouth. She tried to shove it in, swallow and talk at the same time, and ended up coughing up cornflakes all over the table. 

“Ew, sorry. That’s gross,” she said, sweeping the cereal off the table. “Captain, I need to tell you something.”

“Very good. Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of Patrick.”

Pat crossed his arms over his chest to keep in the feeling of the warm glow at those words, said so seriously and so casually at the same time. 

“Sure,” Alison grinned, then she went all business-like, and put down her spoon. 

“I know that we can’t do anything for the New Year, but the plague ghosts told me that they like fireworks, so Mike went and got some and we’re going to set them off tonight.”

“I see. Good for morale, I’m sure,” the Captain said. His voice was steady, but from his place at his side, Pat could see the hands that had been resting comfortably at parade rest behind Cap’s back were now gripping the swagger stick tightly. 

“I’m telling you because I thought that – well, just because I wanted you to know,” Alison said. She glanced at Pat who shrugged, his eyes going back to the way Cap’s hands turned the stick over and over. What Alison was doing, of course, was implying that the Captain might not be fond of loud, banging noises. Pat wasn’t certain that they were a problem for him, but then again, he _had_ been the one holding Cap’s hand during the uncomfortably realistic war scenes on their recent film night, and now he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Cap much around New Year’s Eve – or Bonfire Night for that matter. 

Even if Alison was wrong though, it was good of her to warn him. She had to know as well as Pat did that Cap would never admit there was a problem even if there was one. 

“Understood,” Cap said, instead of giving a real answer, and Alison just nodded. Pat could have kissed her for not pushing. For thinking to ask at all. For – for so many things, really. Not least of all being such a good influence on every single member of their little household. He was sure he’d never be here like this, with the Captain, if Alison hadn’t come along. He’d have to tell her that one day. 

“Great. Well, Mike’s got an extra shift at the farm shop and I’m going to Tesco. Make sure Robin and Kitty don’t wear Humphrey out, okay? And if Thomas is sulking somewhere, tell him about the fireworks to cheer him up. Please.”

“Okie dokie,” Pat said, as the Captain snapped off a salute, and they watched as Alison abandoned the rest of her cereal and shot out of the door, telephone in hand. Pat wanted to ask Cap about what Alison had said, but he kept his peace. He’d find out soon enough. 

“Shall we take a turn around the lake?” the Captain asked, his voice a tad too loud. “We can keep an eye out for Thorne. No doubt he’s trying to drown himself.” 

“Yeah, I reckon so.”

The rest of the Christmas decorations had come down the day after Boxing Day, but Alison had left the little strings of rainbow lights in the tree on the drive. Pat didn’t know if she realised how important those lights were, but he smiled up at them as the Captain led him past on the way to the lake. 

Their first kiss had been under that tree; Cap had been a bit out of sorts after his film, a little bit wild eyed. Like a trapped animal. So Pat had brought him out here, to the peace and quiet, and he’d kissed him, as far away from the battlefield as he could. 

And Cap, thank God, had let him. 

If those lights never came down, Pat would be happy. 

The Captain was strolling, not marching, his pace measured just enough that Pat knew he was making sure that he could keep up with him. Down over the drive, onto the snowy grass, away from the house. Out here it could be just the two of them in the whole world and Pat wondered if that wouldn’t be a bad thing. A lot less to think about, that was for sure. 

Cap wasn’t saying anything, which wasn’t unusual. No, the weird thing was that Pat wasn’t filling the quiet with idle chatter, questions and passing thoughts and anything else he could think of to get the man at his side to talk to him. Instead, they listened to the chittering bird calls, the rustle of wind in leaves, the distant shrieks of their housemates at play. The snow dulled all the noise and Pat wondered if it was dulling him too. If the day that had started badly should just be left for dead, and he could start again tomorrow. 

But then, as an apology formed on his tongue, Cap took a step closer to him and carefully folded Pat’s arm through his own. Pat’s fingers curled against thick, rough wool, and he had to cover his hand with his other one to keep from trembling. The Captain was like a blunt instrument, lacking a lot of diplomacy and an awful lot of tact. It was a bit of a thing to be learning that when he wanted to, he could be quite perceptive as well. When Pat didn’t speak, Cap glanced down at him. 

“Is this – I hope I haven’t overstepped the mark-”

“It’s great,” Pat said, squeezing his fingers against that steady elbow. “It’s just grand.”

He knew Cap would drop his arm if they found Thomas out there, and he didn’t mind. Early days. Plenty of time. And Pat couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy having the Captain to himself. For now, anyway. It had been so long since he had something that was just his. And he had to remind himself that Cap had never had anything like this at all. The Captain had a lifetime and then a longer death with his truth all tied up tight, choking him from the inside out. Pat could help him, but in the end, he had to let Cap undo the knots by himself. Anything else would be risking the noose getting tighter instead of coming loose. 

**

In the end, they did fish Thomas from the lake and take him back to the house. The Captain excused himself with a squeeze of Pat’s hand and went to do his usual rounds of the upper floors. His little routines, which Pat used to think were just ways for the Captain to distract himself from whatever was going on, seemed to actually have some importance to him that Pat hadn’t yet worked out. He thought about the promise of fireworks that evening and, as he watched the Captain climb the stairs, wondered if it was something to do with that. Well, he was sure to find out eventually. Or not, and that was alright too. 

Julian, in whatever vaguely helpful mood seemed to have overcome him since Christmas, had set up the folding computer to play one of the cartoons that Robin liked, so Pat deposited Thomas on the sofa with Robin, Kitty, Mary and Humphrey, then went for a bit of a wander. He hadn’t seen Fanny all morning, after all. In the end she was easy to find, in the kitchen with Julian, listening to the radio. Pat left them to it. It was only as he climbed the stairs, thinking about going for a bit of a lie down, that he realised Cap might have his own little routines, but he had them too. In a way. He liked to know where everyone was and what they were up to. Funny, he’d never thought about it like that before. 

His room was freezing. The radiator had never worked in there. It didn’t matter much, but they could feel the difference between warm and chilly air, and it was always a shock to walk through the door from the warmer landing. But he liked the room; he only shared a wall with Robin on one side as the others said the corridor was too cold for them, so it was quiet. If – he blushed to think about it, but if Cap ever wanted to – stay over, then this would be the place to do it. Cap’s room was on a busy thoroughfare and it wouldn’t be very comfortable if he was worried about anyone hearing them. But that was getting ahead of himself, and Pat shook his head. 

“Much too fast, Patrick,” he muttered, going to the bed. It was nice to think about though. Better than mithering about the house, anyway. Thomas was doing enough of that for everyone. 

The clock struck eleven and he hopped onto the bed. Everyone was busy. They wouldn’t miss him for a few hours, and maybe if he had a little sleep, he’d feel better when he woke up. Recalibrated, like an engine, ready for fireworks and pepping everyone up. He took off his glasses and placed them carefully on his chest. They couldn’t go on the bedside table or they’d be back on his face by the time he woke up, and although they didn’t hurt, it still felt funny after all those years to wear them when he was sleeping. 

When he woke, it was to the sound of the car door slamming under his window, and then he must have dozed off again, because the next thing he knew, the Captain was standing over him. 

“Hiya,” Pat said, his voice rough. “What time is it?”

“Thirteen hundred hours, or there abouts,” the Captain said, a little bit stiffly. “I wondered where you had got to.”

Pat put his glasses on and got a better look at Cap’s face. He was squinting down at him, his moustache twitching, and he looked – for want of a better word – a bit cheesed off. 

“Didn’t mean to sleep that long. You alright?” Pat asked, a little bit guiltily. He probably should have told Cap at least where he was disappearing to. 

“I am quite well. I er – couldn’t find you.”

“Sorry,” Pat said. “I was feeling a little bit mardy. Thought I’d sleep it off.”

Cap nodded once, sharply. 

“I had noticed, yes.”

There was a pause where Cap’s eye twitched, and Pat understood why he was there. And why he looked like someone just spat in his porridge. 

“Nothing to do with you, Cap,” he said softly, feeling right guilty by then. “Come here.”

He patted the space beside him. Cap hesitated for a minute, then sank onto the bed. Pat shuffled over a bit so they could sit side by side, not that there was much room. It was a small bed, and although Cap wasn’t a big bloke really, he did have a knack of filling the space around him. Probably to do with the authority that came from the uniform. Bit of an illusion. 

Pat reached over and placed his hand over Cap’s on the swagger stick, pressing down just hard enough to stop the nervous twisting. 

“New year, passing of time. It always makes me a bit sad,” Pat said, drawing Cap’s hand over to his own lap. “But I should have told you that this morning. Not fair to leave you guessing, is it?”

He ran his fingertips, hard with callouses, down Cap’s palm and over the soft, vulnerable skin of his wrist, then back up. Just a light touch, a gentle apology, but when he looked up the Captain was frozen, his eyes on Pat’s sweeping fingers. Cap’s tongue crept out, and he wetted his bottom lip, then he shuddered, his shoulder trembling against Pat’s. He was searching for words, but they weren’t coming. 

“Too much,” Pat said for him, bringing his fingers to a stop. “It’s alright. How about you kiss me instead?”

Cap nodded. This was safer ground, something he could take control of. He wrapped his arm around Pat’s shoulders, the other around his waist, and pressed their mouths together. Pat brought a hand up to brush through Cap’s short hair, just holding him in place without forcing him closer. He didn’t _need_ to be directed; Cap was a quick study, and he’d learned already how to open his mouth, kiss more deeply, slower and more passionate than he’d started out doing. Pat traced the shape of his ear and Cap groaned into his mouth, just a tiny little noise that Pat was looking forwards to coaxing out of him in more creative ways. Pat’s whole body felt warm, encased by the Captain’s arms and the cosy wool of his jacket. When Cap kissed him, the hollow emptiness that he had for so long thought was just part of being a ghost felt full again. 

“I were just thinking about Daley and the little one,” Pat said when they eventually came apart. Cap’s eyes were shining, his face a little flushed and Pat grinned. He held Cap’s hand between his own again, but firmly this time. No messing about. A solid anchor of a grip. 

“No need to be ashamed, Patrick,” Cap said. “This time of year. Difficult even when one is living. Harder for us, with no real chance of changing anything or starting the year anew.”

“Well, we might have managed to change something this year,” Pat replied, bringing Cap’s hand up to his lips for a kiss. “This is very good.”

“Yes. Quite. Er – Alison is back from her errands. She suggested that we might all like to watch a film. That is why I came to find you.” 

“Sounds smashing,” Pat said, because it really did. He’d been right; the sleep, and Cap here, at his side, had set him up for a better evening. 

The others had already started the film by the time they made it to the TV room. Kitty glanced up as they came in, smiling brightly, and Julian smirked out of the side of his mouth, but the others were too focused on the screen to even notice they were late. Not that Pat cared. 

“Shift up,” he said. “Room for a little one?”

He squeezed onto the sofa between Thomas and Mary as Cap took his usual place standing behind one of the armchairs. No doubt he’d start pacing soon, but at least he was there. 

“What’s this then?” Pat muttered in Thomas’ ear. 

“It is called Sleepless In Seattle,” Thomas said. “Alison says it is a most beautiful love story.”

“Great.” 

A bit soppy for his taste probably, but sat here surrounded by his funny little family, it didn’t really matter. And if he shed a bit of a tear when the bloke was talking about his dead wife, about dreaming of her, then it didn’t matter, because Thomas was doing the same at his side, and when Pat glanced over Julian had his face turned away from the screen too, and Fanny had a hand pressed to her mouth. 

Quite therapeutic in the end. Pat wondered if Alison had put it on for them on purpose. 

As the film ended, Alison came in with Mike trailing her, his hand in a massive bag of crisps. 

“Alright guys. I’ve checked with Walter and the gang are going to come up to watch the fireworks later. So I want everyone on their best behaviour please.”

“Why are you looking at me when you say that?” Julian asked, his hand pressed to his chest. 

“You know why, mate,” Pat chuckled. “Don’t start another bloody revolution, yeah?”

“If fireworks aren’t anyone’s thing then that’s cool,” Alison continued, carefully not looking at the Captain. “But Obi knows a guy and we got a really good deal on quite a lot of different ones, so I think it will look great. We’re going to set them up now before it gets too dark.”

From what Pat knew of Mike’s friend Obi, the idea that he ‘knew a guy’ dealing in fireworks sounded like asking for trouble. Still, it was nice of Alison to do something for the plague ghosts, and seeing as everyone would enjoy it and no one could technically get hurt, it would be fine. 

Well, nearly everyone would enjoy it. He watched the Captain march out after Alison and Mike, intent no doubt on keeping an eye on the set up, and promised himself he’d catch him as soon as he came back in. 

In the meantime, though, there was something useful he could be doing. 

“Okie dokie, gang,” Pat said, jumping to his feet. “Let’s have a New Year Food Club, yeah? Who wants to go first?” 

**

Alison tempted the plague ghosts upstairs a bit early and put on some music in the drawing room. Some of them were friendly enough; Nigel immediately sat down and started talking to Humphrey like they were old mates, and Mary went to a corner with Elizabeth and Moira to chat, but the others were a bit lost upstairs, and it showed. 

“Alison,” Pat said, thinking fast as he watched Julian and Walter square up from across the room. “Do you know how to play musical statues? Do they still play that?”

“Pat, you’re a genius,” she said, then clapped her hands and launched into an explanation. It wasn’t really pushing her luck; everyone liked dancing, or were competitive enough to join in if there was a chance of winning bragging rights. 

Pat left them to it, and slipped out to find Cap. He had come back in with Alison and Mike but gone upstairs straight away, muttering about doing his rounds. Pat knew exactly where he’d be; in the library, hiding. 

“So, I were just thinking,” Pat said, barrelling into the room, not giving Cap a chance to escape. “I don’t much fancy standing out in the cold watching the fireworks and keeping the peace with Julian and Walter. I might watch them from my room instead. Get a good view and it will be quieter.”

“Oh,” the Captain said, turning from the window. “Er – very sensible. Rather chilly out there.”

“Will you watch with me, then? From my room, I mean. Don’t want to be a Billy No Mates.”

Cap’s shoulders, which had been up round his ears, dropped just like that. Easy as pie, if you knew how to read him. 

“Of course I will. If that is what you want.”

They didn’t make it back downstairs. Pat doubted anyone was missing them; it sounded like his suggestion for a game had started a small war. Instead they went to his room, and sat in the window, looking out over the drive. Their knees pressed together, and Cap asked about Daley. Pat’s favourite thing to talk about.

At just before midnight, there was a ruckus from under the window and everyone trooped onto the driveway. Mike’s big speakers crackled into life and the sound of Auld Lang Syne filled the house, just loud enough that it would help to cover up noise from outside. Pat was touched that Alison had thought of it. She was peering up at Pat’s window, and he stood up to wave to her. It was dark and she probably couldn’t see him, but she asked Robin something and he glanced up at them, then nodded to her. She grinned and waved, then took the arm Mike offered as they set off into the darkness, the tiny lights on their telephones the only sign of where they were. 

As the clock struck midnight, the first rocket went up, and Pat grabbed the front of Cap’s jacket, pulling him in for a kiss. He put his arms right around him, let Cap grip the back of his shirt as tightly as he wanted. A couple more of the rockets went off in a row, like Mike had set them all off together, and Cap twitched in Pat’s arms, but kissing him seemed to be doing the job of keeping him distracted, and no denying it was right nice too. The song finished and immediately started up again, a different version. Mike must have made one of his playlists. Pat chuckled and when he felt like he might explode, he pulled back and kissed the Captain’s cheek. 

“Alright?” he asked. “Couldn’t have done that out there, eh?”

“No, I – I think not,” Cap said, his face red. He didn’t let up his grip on Pat’s shirt, but he did turn to look cautiously out of the window as the next lot of fireworks went up. Obi’s mate, whoever he was, had done them proud. The display was really something. 

Pat looked down at the other ghosts gathered on the driveway, bathed in the light spilling out of the entrance hall. Thomas had his arm around Kitty, a rare sign of affection from him, and Mary and Robin were holding hands. From the back, it looked like Fanny was cradling Humphrey in her arms. The plague ghosts were hugging one another, so much easier with their affection than the stuffy upstairs lot; Pat even saw Mick shake Julian’s hand. 

Magic, what the promise of a new year could do.

Even if you were dead. 

He leaned his head on Cap’s shoulder, his hand creeping around his back to hook onto his belt loop, and grinned as the music played on, masking the bangs. Cap dropped a kiss onto the top of his head and for once the rumble low in his throat sounded contented rather than nervous. 

Yes, there was plenty of promise. Quite enough to be getting on with.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year to y'all (shoutout to the PatCap nation). I hope 2021 is kinder to everyone cos God knows we all deserve it. 
> 
> Title, once again, from The Muppet Christmas Carol


End file.
